Heavy hands batter the door leading into Carson’s apartment. The door rattles and the sound of knocking resonates through the domicile, urging Carson’s eyes open. Carson, lying face down on the floor, pushes himself off the ground with shaky spaghetti arms. His eyes, sand-crusted and heavy, fall shut as forces himself to his knees and then, with as much surefootedness as he’s shown thus far, up to his feet. He wipes some of the sand from his eyes and shuffles through the maze of trash on the floor to the door. Shaking his head to wake himself up, he pulls open the door and is taken aback by who’s standing on the other side.

We never got the chance to catch up at dad’s party.

Leonard, Carson’s older brother, snickers as he watches Carson back away.

What’s the problem? Don’t want to see me?

Carson swallows to wet the back of his throat and coughs a couple of times before opening his mouth.

You’re not going to invite me in?

Carson shakes his head and sighs before stepping out of the way and ushering his brother inside.

After you, Lenny.

Leonard sneers as he steps into the apartment, before grabbing Carson’s wrist and slamming it against the wall.

Don’t ever call me that.

He lets go of Carson’s wrist and makes his further into the house, sniffing twice and immediately covering his nose.

Jesus, man, smells like something died in here.

Whatever, why are you here? How did you even find me?

Mom told me, took her a little while seeing as it’s because dad wants to talk to you, but she caved.

The fuck does dad want?

It’s concerning your announcement, baby brother.

Leonard grabs Carson by the back of his head and tugs on his hair. Outwardly a bit of brotherly affection, however he’s tugging to rip hair out. Carson grimaces and pulls himself away before shaking his head at his unwanted guest.

Lighen up will ya, you make it so hard to be a good brother. Now, dad’s wanting to know how he can help you on your campaign trail. You’re making the family look goo…

Get the fuck out.

Leonard shakes his head with a plastered on, plastic smile.

I’m just going to pretend I didn’t hear that.

Then let me repeat it. Get the fuck out.

Carson stomps his foot and points at the door. Leonard chuckles and steps forward, getting up in his little brother’s face.

And if I don’t? What are you going to do? Call the cops? Make me?

Carson glares at his brother. His heart races as he looks into Leonard’s eyes. Studying every inch of him, feeling his aura of smugness and contempt. Then the flip switches. His scowl turns into a grin. Leonard raises an inquiring eyebrow and cocks his head.

I know you, Lenny. I know so many things you wouldn’t want anyone to know. Get the fuck out right now and no one will know any of them. Stay and threaten me some more, and you, dad, and the rest of your fucking company will be swimming in terrible publicity until the day you die.

Carson sneers at his brother. Leonard, who looks to have been caught off guard for the first time in his life slowly backs away, towards the door. He regains some of his composure and opens his mouth, holding up his index finger. However, once he catches a glimpse of Carson’s unchanged, unfazed demeanor, he folds once more and forces himself out the door, but not without asking one vital question.

When did you grow a set?


Before I go any further, I have say this. Yes, Team . That’s the name everyone’s chosen for the team of Maverick and Scully. Yes, Maverick has about as much say in that as he did in naming his whole stable the Black Hand, and being a part of it in the first place, and when it comes to who he faces. The moral of the story is that Maverick has literally no choice in anything he does. This has been well established already, right? I’m not just crazy for thinking it has? Because if you listen to Maverick it’s like he just figured that out. Which wouldn’t be a surprise considering he is on Team , but he claims he isn’t one. So either he’s lying or, yeah that’s the only real possibility considering how much of a filthy liar he is.

Lying about not shitting on titles. Hell, I bet that one still gets him crying the saltiest of tears, whimpering into his pillow wondering why no one likes him and why they won’t leave him alone about that. I could go on about this, but I’m not a bully. No, see I didn’t start this shit. Never did. Never opened my mouth, never planned on opening my mouth until Maverick and Scully fired the first shots. Which, sure, did soar in all directions except where they aimed but that’s not important. In LA, if you shots are fired at you, you fire back. No exceptions. It’s how I was born and raised.

Maverick and Scully ain’t about that life. Never have been, never will be even if Scully tries so hard to be a gangster.

That’s part of the problem with Maverick and Scully, they’re content. How they could be content with being the tag champions based on a sheer fluke is beyond me but hey if that’s what they wanna do that’s fine. Nothing Flynn and I can do to improve their work ethic there. Sure, when we take their titles as our own maybe it’ll light the fire under their ass a little bit but since these guys have proven pretty incapable of taking hints, I doubt that as well.

I’m sure it’s obvious there’s a bit of a difference in how Flynn and I go about talking about these guys. Flynn’s a good dude. Nice. I can’t be that way to people who show disrespect. Nah, it ain’t in my nature. But Flynn and I are on the same side, we’re bros. Brick Squad is unified.

We can’t say that shit about the Black Hand. Not with Pest being out with his disappointment in Maverick for backing down. I know I’ve said it again and again but how can they say their unified when they can’t even support each other. It’s disgraceful. A house divided cannot stand or something like that.

So, instead of continuing to focus my attention on Maverick and how much he bitches about this match being booked, I wanna look at how worthy of a champion he is. Hey, he wants to throw around that word like his special education teacher taught him what it means, I gotta evaluate how actually worthy he is.

Scully and him won by fluke after Sane forgot that he had talent. And even with Sane carrying the idiot ball like he caught mental from Scully, it took them quite a bit of effort to put away a terminally broken down Gator.

Now, here’s the part where Maverick only takes one thing away from that last bit. isn’t contagious. Calling it in advance because that’s how Maverick operates. He picks out the obvious and acts like it’s an accomplishment.

Meanwhile, Brick Squad has been dominant in every match we’ve had. Undefeated. Make short work of everyone who’s set across from us in the ring. Is it our fault that every match is so uneven? When you have as much talent as each of us have, very few can go a couple rounds with us, let alone push us to our limits and the fact that you’re blaming us for our opponents’ inferiority is some bullshit.

So, tell me again who’s worthy? Cuz from where I’m sitting it sure ain’t you. It sure ain’t Scully. It’s Brick Squad, the people who’ve impressed the bookers so much that we were granted a match long before the people who have established shots just by asking for them.

Now, hearing all of this, you still gonna say we’re fucked? No man, you’re fucked. You and all the shit you talked, you’re fucked. All your posturing, your underhanded ways of trying to weasel out of this match, your disagreeing with your own stablemates because your daddy Pest seems to be pretty high on us, has gotten you nowhere except on the other end of these fists.

When Flynn and I walk out with our tag titles, I want you to apologize for not backing up your shit.

And I haven’t even gotten on the topic of Scully. Sorry about that man, I know you mentally challenged people don’t have the best attention spans but your boy Maverick’s just been going off with stupid shit since, well if I had to guess I’d say birth but I don’t know about that. Definitely since we issued our challenge. Just had to address that stuff. But on to you. You’re the man of the hour. I would’ve made a paper crown for you, but it turns out I don’t have any crayons. Sorry bro.

Yes, I’m treating you better than Maverick, because you’re proving yourself smarter than him. No jokes there man, no take backs or nothing. For real. You’re obviously the brains of Team .

Anyway, let’s get onto what you’ve been saying, eh?

I gotta say, I ain’t picking on you. Flynn ain’t picking on you. It ain’t our fault that you have what we want and what we’re going to have. We’ve been saying since day one that it ain’t personal, that there’s no hard feelings and that once we win this match and then win again against the rest of the Black Hand, we’d be down for some partying but right now it’s business time and beating you two is our business.

Really, what is there to say about Scully especially considering his grand contribution to everything has been a couple of raps that show just how much he wants to be a gangster, but also shows how he ain’t. What, am I supposed to come back with a verse of my own? Turn this into a battle? Nah man, not doing that. You want me rapping? Check my mixtape “Bush Did 9/11” on Soundcloud. Shit’s fire.

Seriously, dude’s , it ain’t like he catches things anyway and I ain’t about to start nitpicking bullshit like Maverick does because he’s too dumb to get what’s actually being said.

This ain’t debate club bro. This is wrestling.

Remember that.